The Setting Sun
by Harvester
Summary: Set between seasons 5 and 6, how I imagined the gang, Spike, and Dawn spending their summer.


A/N - Finished editing this before actually posting the first chapter to A Taste for Fear. This is a rewrite of the first Buffy fic I ever wrote, though I like how it turned out this time so much I figured I'd go ahead and post it. Takes place over the summer after the events of Season 5. As always, please R&R.  
  
---  
  
The sun had set, and the things that shy away from the light were just beginning to surface, looking for their next meal, their next fuck, their next small dose of satisfaction. Demons, things out of the worst nightmares of a lunatic mind, walked freely through the night, seeking prey of one sort or another. Also at this time, a different kind of predator rose, one who lived in darkness out of necessity, but who hunted, and killed, those things that were not men. He was a man. But he was also a vampire.  
  
"Let us prey," he said, a grim smile playing across his lips. He scanned the scene, looking for others of his kind, or just others, those things that were so far from human that even at night, they had to cling to the darkest shadows. This was his life, or un-life, now. Find and kill. Over and over again, until he was stone, until the darkness itself feared him. But he wasn't stone, he was just a man, a man who loved, a man who hurt. There was a time when he didn't feel much of anything, and played his part as one of the things he now hunted. For over a hundred years, he did his best to be the worst creature that ever walked the night. That was before he learned, or rather remembered, love. Before he met her, the one who had, at first, become his obsession. Later, obsession was replaced by love, by a need to help, by caring for people and things he had no right to care for. Finally, though, love was replaced by rage and grief, as he watched her die. He'd failed her, and she had paid for it with her life. The smile faded, replaced first with a look of sadness, then with an icy mask. Enough time had been spent on thought. Now was time for action.  
  
He found his prey in an alley, three of them, bent over, feeding on a homeless woman. The first was dust before it even registered his presence, the wooden stake sliding home between its ribs. The other two looked up, but he was already in motion, a shadowy form against the darkness, moving with a speed and grace borne of experience. The second leapt for him, but he easily moved out of the way and staked it in the air. The forward momentum of the creature sent a fine spray of dust deeper into the alley as its body disintegrated. The third stood, waiting. These weren't the brightest three he had faced. Even a newborn should know better than to let its guard down, especially when feeding. The third appeared to have at least a modicum of intelligence. Instead of rushing in, it waited for him to come to it. This made it more dangerous, if only slightly. It also meant the fight might be a bit more satisfying.  
  
He circled, looking for an opening, waiting for the creature to make a move. It could see him clearly now, the advantage of surprise was lost, but he had other advantages, and the creature would make a mistake. They always did. He saw it shift its weight a split second before it rushed him, and he sidestepped and launched a vicious kick that caught the creature in the side, knocking it into the wall. It pushed off from the wall, and came at him again, catching him off guard. He'd felt ribs break from the kick, and had been expecting the wound to slow it. It grabbed his wrist, trying to keep the hand that held the stake away from its body. Its other hand was on his throat, he could feel ragged claws digging into his skin, felt the cool trickle of blood down the side of his neck. He punched it, twice, in its injured side, and when he felt it lessen its grip on him, smashed the heel of his boot into its left knee, again with the satisfying crunch of bone. The thing howled, but would not release its grip on his arm. As it fell, its knee giving out completely, it pulled him down with it. He grabbed its throat, and just before they hit the ground, he pushed down, slamming its head into the concrete. It went limp, and he thrust the stake into its chest before it could recover.  
  
"Bloody amateurs."  
  
He checked on the woman, but she had been dead before he entered the alley. It appeared her neck was broken, and he kneeled, regarding her for a moment before moving on. When he was sure she wasn't going to rise later, he stood, straightened his coat, and walked out of the alley into the moonlight, again searching for prey.  
  
---  
  
"I'm worried about Spike." It wasn't the first time Dawn had expressed concern for the vampire since Buffy's death. She'd spent more time with Spike than anyone else in the gang, especially since the events at and on the tower. "He just seems different, and not in a good way. Not like, all vamped-out fangs and blood bad, but. well, just bad."  
  
"Maybe it's just his way of dealing with things," Tara said. "I don't really know. We were all hit pretty hard by what happened. None of us has really recovered yet. Maybe he just needs time."  
  
"You don't understand," Dawn slumped back in the chair. Tara could tell she had thought a lot about this, and it had exhausted her. "He's been going out at night, I think he's patrolling on his own, and that's on top of the patrols he goes out on with you guys. Sometimes, when I go over there he has bruises and cuts. He says 'I just had a bit of the rough and tumble down at the bar' or something like that, like it's nothing. Like he doesn't care that he's hurt."  
  
"How do you know he's been going out?" Tara said, a note of concern in her voice.  
  
"Well. sometimes after I leave, I kind of hang around outside and watch him. I've been really worried about him, and I just wanted to see how he is when he doesn't know I'm around, you know? I've seen him go out. One night, I saw him drop a stake as he was leaving. I was kind of freaked out, I thought he might. you know." Dawn paused, hoping she wouldn't have to say what she was thinking.  
  
"What did you do?" Tara asked, the concern still apparent in her voice.  
  
"I sorta followed him."  
  
"You did what?"  
  
Dawn looked at the carpet. "I followed him. Look, I know I'm probably going to be grounded until the next apocalypse for it, but I was really really worried about him."  
  
Tara sighed. "Where did he go? We'll talk about the other part later."  
  
"Well. it wasn't like when Willow and everyone goes on patrol. You guys try to catch them at the graveyard before they can get out into the city, or get the ones that are in places where lots of people go. He went to the docks. I didn't follow him inside, but. I saw him before he went in. I saw his face. I was never scared of Spike before that moment, but his face was so cold."  
  
Tara spoke up quickly, "Do you think he would have hurt you?" "No, I don't. Spike would never hurt me. But. I've never seen him like that before. I've seen him fight, I've seen all of you fight, and it's hard and mean, but you're still you. I mean, you still look and act the same, even if you're fighting, even if you're hurt. But that night it was almost like Spike wasn't. well, Spike. Like he was someone else, someone I don't think I like."  
  
Tara thought for a moment. She didn't like what she was hearing, but didn't really know what to say to Dawn. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"  
  
"Let's see. I tell Spike I followed him. He gets angry at me, and then lies about what he was doing. For some reason I don't think that would work. Besides, I kind of did ask when I saw he was hurt, and I already told you what he said."  
  
"So, what do you think we should do?"  
  
"I don't know. I was hoping you would. I wanted to talk to you first because you seem to hate Spike a little less than everyone else does."  
  
"No one hates him. Ok, maybe someone does, but no one in the gang does. They don't trust him. He is a vampire, after all. And he did so many awful things." She added, after a brief pause, "Willow told me about some of them."  
  
"I know. Spike told me about the things he's done," Dawn sat forward in her chair, looking at Tara for the first time since she admitted she'd followed Spike. "He isn't like that anymore. Buffy even trusted him to watch me and mom when she couldn't."  
  
Tara sat, trying to decide what to say. She knew that Spike didn't seem very vampire-like sometimes, but he was still a vampire. Looking at Dawn's face, and remembering how Spike reacted when Buffy died, she wasn't sure what to think of him. "Maybe we should talk to Willow. Together."  
  
---  
  
He touched the tender area on the side of his neck where the vamp's nails had cut him. "Probably bruised, too," he thought to himself, "But it'll heal. It always does."  
  
It had been a good night. After the three vamps in the alley, he'd tangled with a tuorach demon in the scrapyard, finally managing to impale it on a broken length of pipe. He hated tourach demons, they were always hungry and would eat anything that was, or had been, alive. They were even known to eat other demons, given the chance. He brushed his fingers across the marks on his arm where the tuorach had bitten him, and wished he'd killed it more quickly. He glanced at the torn, bloodstained cloth that had once been his favorite shirt.  
  
"No. I should have made it suffer more."  
  
He'd found 4 more vamps before deciding to head home. None of them proved to be much trouble. He pulled on a shirt, and got ready to go to bed. The sun was coming up, and he was exhausted. 8 kills in a single night was a new record for him. He'd do his best to break it the next.  
  
---  
  
"Spike?" The crypt was empty. After talking to Tara and Dawn, Willow had decided she might be the best one to talk to him. She'd planned on catching him after the regular patrol, but Spike hadn't showed up. He hadn't gone to see Dawn either, and Willow realized even she was starting to worry about him.  
  
She tried to think of where he might be, but realized there was a simpler way to find him. "Find." As she spoke the word, power flowed, and an image of Spike walking down an alley formed in the air in front of her. She also saw two figures following him. She didn't recognize the place, but it didn't matter. "Guide me." The scene folded in upon itself, until a small point of light floated in its place. The light zipped off, and Willow ran after it.  
  
---  
  
He knew they were there. You didn't spend a hundred years as a hunter without learning to know the signs. He could feel them, feel the hunger coming off of them, and he smiled. They were almost silent, and doing a good job of keeping out of sight, which meant they were ready for him. Still, he was ready, too, and looking forward to a good fight.  
  
He broke into a run, rounding the corner and slamming back against the wall, waiting for them to follow. The first came running, and Spike kicked its legs out from under it. It hit the ground hard, and Spike was already moving to catch the second. It nearly ran into him as it came around the corner, and he grabbed it, swinging it around into the wall. It brought a hand up and tried to rake his eyes, but as the hand came in he bit it, tearing skin and muscle. He brought his knee into its groin once, twice, and threw it across the alley into the opposite wall. He rounded on the first just as it lunged for him, had enough time to get his arms up to cover his face and chest, and then the thing was on him, tearing and biting wherever it could. Spike spun to one side, and backhanded the creature, snapping its head back. He reached in, grabbing one wrist, and with a quick twist broke its arm. The thing stumbled back, looking at him stupidly, then at its dangling arm. Spike staked it before it could look back up.  
  
The second creature jumped on him from behind, and he could feel it trying to get its fangs into his neck. He elbowed it in the tomach, and then slammed back against the wall, trying to dislodge it. The creature's fingers dug into his arm and his chest, and it refused to let go. Spike took a step forward, slammed his head back, catching the creature just to one side of its nose, and was preparing to slam it into the wall again when he felt the creature go stiff for a moment, and then its grip on him was suddenly gone, as was its weight on his back. He turned, and saw Willow standing there, a stake in her hand.  
  
"I didn't need help," he said, brushing the dust from his coat.  
  
"You're welcome anyway."  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, as he probed the fresh wounds received during the fight.  
  
"Looking for you. Dawn has been worried about you, and when you didn't show up for the patrol tonight." her words trailed off. At her mention of Dawn, his head had snapped up, and he stood looking at her.  
  
"Worried? Why?"  
  
"Why? Spike, are you kidding me? You're bleeding from at least a dozen places, you've got bruises all over, and those are only the ones I can see. You think she didn't notice?"  
  
"Just doing my part to keep the world safe. Sometimes, gets you hurt. I'm used to it. Just tell her I'm fine," he said, turning as if to walk away.  
  
Willow grabbed his arm. "You aren't fine. This isn't like when we patrol. It's stupid, and dangerous, and it's going to end up getting you killed."  
  
"I can take care of myself. Besides, I'm already dead."  
  
"You know what I mean!"  
  
Spike turned around, staring hard at her. "What do you care? Tell me that. What do you care if I'm dust, or still walking around? I'm just another vampire, right?"  
  
"I don't know what you are. You aren't just another vampire, though. Dawn cares about you a lot, and I think you care about her too. What you're doing is hurting her. I care because Dawn does."  
  
"Right. Whatever. Like I said, tell her I'm fine." With that, Spike tore free of her grasp, and stalked off into the night.  
  
"Wait..." Willow called after him, but he kept walking. "Spike! What would Buffy think of this?"  
  
Spike stopped. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath. He felt Willow's hand on his arm again, but this time her touch was light. He turned quickly, slapping her hand away, and grimaced in pain as the chip sent a spear of electricity through his brain.  
  
Spikes hands flew reflexively to his head, and Willow waited for the pain to pass before continuing. "She asked you to protect Dawn. Is this how you do it, by making her worry, by going out and trying to get yourself killed?"  
  
Spike shook his head trying to clear it, and growled "I am protecting Dawn, you stupid bint! Each one of the things I kill is one less that she needs to be afraid of. Besides, do you really think Dawn hanging around me is the best thing for her?"  
  
Willow looked at Spike for a moment. He did have a good point, no matter what he felt for Dawn, or Dawn for him, he was a vampire. And a particularly nasty one at that. But she wondered if the monster he had once been would stop to consider what effect his presence might have on Dawn. "I don't know. I think that, right now at least, Dawn needs you more than she needs any of us. She really does care about you, and you're hurting her."  
  
"Willow, I will do something I don't normally do. I will be completely honest with you, right here, right now. It stays here, between us. I am asking, not telling, not threatening. Will you promise me that?"  
  
"I promise," she said, nodding.  
  
Spike took his cigarettes, shaking one from the pack. "There's something in me now," he said, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "It's dark. I thought I knew what darkness was, but this... It's different. It feels such rage." He expelled the smoke, barely even tasting it. He lowered his head, and sighed, "I hate them, Will. All of them. Vampires. Demons. I want to kill them all."  
  
Willow found herself feeling sorry for him. For that moment, he wasn't a vampire, he was simply a man, a man who hurt more than anyone should. She almost told him about the plans she and the others had, plans that might result in returning Buffy to the world, and to him, but before she could speak, he looked up at her. He continued, taking another deep drag on his cigarette, "Sometimes it isn't enough just to kill them. Sometimes, I want them to suffer. So they do, for as long as I can make them."  
  
Willow blinked. "Would you hurt Dawn?"  
  
"What sort of a question is that?" Spike growled.  
  
"An honest one. Would you?"  
  
Spike looked at her, something slipping through his eyes briefly that made Willow shiver involuntarily. "I would never hurt her. Never. And if you ever even think about asking me something like that again..."  
  
"What about me? Tara?"  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Spike sighed again, looking at the ground. "You don't deserve it. Hell, you're all the closest things I have to friends."  
  
Spike laughed, bitterly. "But I don't have friends. I have enemies, and I have those that aren't enemies. Yet."  
  
Willow didn't know how to respond. "Is that how you think of us?" she asked after a long pause.  
  
The mask slipped back into place, and Spike grinned at her. "You're allies. You want them all dead too."  
  
Willow frowned. "That isn't..."  
  
"Don't bother, Red. Reasons don't matter. Only results. Doesn't matter if you want to protect all these people walking around, or kill the things that might hurt them because you get off on it. All that matters is, when you're done, they're dead, or dust."  
  
"And I've had enough of this for tonight. Tell the 'bit I'm fine."  
  
Spike turned and started to walk away, but stopped. "One more thing, Red."  
  
Willow looked at hime expectnatly, but stayed silent.  
  
Spike looked at her, his eyes cold. "Don't ever take my kill again."  
  
  
  
--- 


End file.
